The Case of the Flying Eggshells

A couple months ago, Roxana the housekeeper told me she was in the courtyard off the kitchen when an eggshell flew out of the sky and hit her on the head. It was a strange story, and I chalked it up to my less-than-perfect Spanish skills. Roxana has only one speed (turbo), and I often have a hard time understanding her Spanish.

Then last week I was washing dishes and heard a noise outside. I looked, and there on the floor of the courtyard were two broken eggshells. Not little speckled eggs like the kind that might have fallen out of a bird's nest, but big eggs like the kind you buy in the store and fry with bacon for breakfast. Chicken eggs.

Weird...

Today one of the office employees was standing out in the courtyard talking on the phone when three eggshells came flying over the wall from the neighbor's house and hit her in the head. She did what neither Roxana nor I thought to do (not that I would've had the courage to do this even if it had occurred to me). She went over to the neighbor's house. The nine-year-old boy and his grandfather were home, and they asked her to return shortly when the parents got back, which she did. And, after some discussion, the mystery was solved:

The boy is evidently quite overweight. The parents have the idea that it's not healthy to eat more than one egg per day. The boy loves eggs. The parents don't let him eat more than one egg per day. So when the parents aren't home, the boy cooks his eggs and tosses the evidence out the window, over the wall, into our courtyard.

And so concludes the Case of the Flying Eggshells.